


Embers to my Smoke

by afanesyevo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Burn with John Laurens reaction, F/M, John haven't died yet, M/M, by Alexanders eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afanesyevo/pseuds/afanesyevo
Summary: He was about to lose them. Lose them all. Without saying goodbye. Without seeing them once again, holding them, memorizing them.Devoid of saying the value his heart has taken on him.Only to shout them elsewhere, to the dark red lips of a woman.--*--Where John is still alive and The Reynolds Pamphlet is present. Alexander Hamilton in front of the hardest trial. To make him believe, to earn his hands again.





	Embers to my Smoke

Cold in his delinquency, warm in his penitence. He wished to be never unclouded, bare like his present instance. He desired the power to convince abysses of green sighting him.  
Something Alexnder Hamilton could not define.  
A green blended with the most valuable treasure, that the man writes like its going out of style cannot delineate.  
The eyes once looked at him so effeminate, earnest, orbed by the blackest eyelashes, now seize the affliction, Alexander never wished the witness.  
He knew. He knew. He knew it all along.  
The affair should have been kept independent from his many many mistakes. Just like his iniquity sentiments.  
My dearest John...  
He wished to reach. Reach and feel his face against his very own skin. This skin he traded to so low. Is it really his to speak? Is it still? After his caprice affair, did his skin merited the right to feel the freckled face? To wipe the sorrow hidden by rage. To get closer and assure everything will be, once again, okay.  
At least he hoped...  
My dearest... dearest John Laurens.  
My best friend, my assurance, my only.  
The man who renamed constellations with his freckles and redefined bravery with his actions.  
These may be last my words or my first truths but I have to say something or I might lose it all.  
All. Everything. Everything he wished for. Seeing him once again, being inches apart that not only Alexander can see the depths of his anger but also the disappointment.  
His heart tightened by the wrath of greens.  
He was about to lose them. Lose them all. Without saying goodbye. Without seeing them once again, holding them, memorizing them.  
Devoid of saying the value his heart has taken on him.  
Only to shout them elsewhere, to the dark red lips of a woman.  
Only to memorize how her body moved, how her eyes darkened with the shadows.  
He talked. He usually did.  
He talked for revolution, against Burr, until Eliza fell in love.  
He talked in Constitutional Convention for six hours, to defend his world.  
He talked in Adams Administrations, practically dueling with Jefferson without real bullets.  
A beat without a melody.  
A death without a sound.  
Jefferson, that day, killed him without real bullets. Now he cannot even defend himself. Cannot beg for forgiveness from his closest friend, his beloved, his John Laurens.  
A whimper. Only a breeze was adaptable to his ears.  
There was only a breeze.  
And John's breathes.  
Probably the calm before the hurricane.  
And John's heartbeats. The beat without a melody.  
The second one to take everything he holds dear.  
His breaths alongside the breeze, the fire in his eyes.  
The beat of his heart. Without a memory.  
Only beats. Monotonous, mediocre. A gunshot. Thousands of gunshots.  
He is about to lose him. Only a matter of seconds and he is losing him.  
Golds in green were fading.  
You unfinished tune John. You sang for me. You sang for me during hurricanes, during the war. Surrounded by death and blood, you sang for me.  
Now listen to me!  
"Jackie...?"  
The only thing came out of his mouth was a whisper. Shaky, defenseless.  
"Jackie, you, believe me, right?"  
John never lost his sight aiming right through Alexanders soul and heart. Trying to see past through him. Just like he used to.  
He tossed to a citadel which Alexander protected his soul in. He knew him enough to say that just by the browns of his eyes. John glared even harder.  
"You went too far, Alexander."  
A tear slid down from Alexanders face. It was his voice. The voice that sang with him, defended him, comforted him. Another one slid down as it was John's voice which alarmed that there was no backing up, no softening.  
The voice he missed the most, certified that he has lost John Laurens for an eternity. And he talked monotone. He talked the words he never forgot.  
"Cold in professions, warm in my friendship, I wish my dear Laurens, it might 'once' be in my power, by action rather than words to convince you that I love you..."  
I am so sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything has a first so this is it. I do not know if this will be read much but if you want please criticize as you like. I would love to read what you thought about this.  
> John's perspective can be added too, if anyone likes this one.  
> Hope you'll like this. :) :)


End file.
